Sweet Desire (Tales of Dystopian Decadence Book 2) Read Online Free

dusty, plastic-jacketed book that appeared to be a photo album. I pulled it out from where it was wedged between the thick, dark spines of books with faded gold lettering, and opened it. A puff of dust filled the air before me and the motes tickled my nose, setting off an abrupt chain reaction of sneezes. When they stopped, I blinked and looked down at the book.
    It was definitely a photo album – archaic now in 2150, but I knew some people still cherished such things. Flipping it open, I looked at the three photos on the first page. It was Nicholas, probably a little younger than he was now, standing with his arm around a beautiful woman. She was stunning, with glossy chestnut curls and doe-like brown eyes, and her arms were around Nicholas’ waist while she laughed for the camera. He actually looked happy. Smitten, even.
    I couldn’t help but smile in response, but as my fingers parted the first page from the next and lifted it, a hand slammed down atop the photo album. With a gasp I stepped back, letting the book fall to the floor and looking up at Nicholas.
    Sure, he’d been an asshole before, but now he looked infuriated, his chest heaving and eyes sparking with anger. “Don’t you touch that a fucking thing,” he snarled, bending over to yank the photo album up off the floor.
    “I was just,” I swallowed as I tried to think of a good response, “dusting.”
    “Don’t dust those books.” He wrapped his arm around the photo album and narrowed his eyes at me. “I told you to make supper.”
    “It’s cooking.” I pointed toward the kitchen and tried to ignore the fact that my finger was trembling. Anger was not an emotion I was accustomed to encountering, and no one had ever been angry at me !
    “Fine. Then… Keep cooking it.” With that, he turned and stormed out of the room. Even after he slammed the back door, I could still hear him stomping down the stairs into the basement.
    My entire body shook as I inhaled, trying to calm my racing heart. What had I done wrong? Did he expect me to live here, cook and clean, but not touch anything? That didn’t make any sense.
    I shook my head and finally turned back to the kitchen. There was not even so much as a radio on the countertops there. Cleaning such a small house wouldn’t be very difficult, so how would I fill my time with something other than silence and the circle of questions firing in my mind? Apparently the books were off-limits. Or maybe just the one book – the mysterious photo album with its photo of a man who was obviously in love, an emotion this Nicholas hardly seemed capable of feeling.
    While I made dinner, I tried to ignore those frustrating questions. Unfortunately, the silence made it all too easy to dwell on them. I’m going to drive myself crazy , I thought. I can’t do this.
    Azure, had she been here, would have said, “Fuck this fucking shit,” and either found a way out of it or a way to make the best of it.
    Gods, how I missed her.
    An old tune came to mind and I hummed a few bars. Soon, I was singing it and the melody made me feel a little better while I peeled potatoes and carrots, preheated the oven, and assembled everything in a covered pan. There was nothing to do but find a way to make this work. I pushed the pan into the oven alongside the bread, set the timer, and looked around the kitchen. Since the house was already spotless, I decided to put my belongings away.
    In my room, I opened the valise and smiled. I had my portable lyriphone – of course! The palm-sized piece of digital technology was a remnant of the world before the Regime, before the rigid laws forbidding the possession of such devices. Only Regime-sanctioned radio stations were permitted. Those broadcasting on other bands were traced and arrested, which meant no music, no news other than what the Regime wanted us to hear. Certainly no anti-government talk broadcast for the public to hear, which was unfortunate, because I hated the Regime. The